


Understanding

by RowanKayWho



Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Canon Universe, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, Minor Injuries, POV First Person, Reader-Insert, Sad with a Happy Ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-30
Updated: 2020-09-30
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:46:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,472
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26734582
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RowanKayWho/pseuds/RowanKayWho
Summary: After months of dating, she was tired of the lies. Jacob always came home beaten and bruised, yet told her not to worry as she tended to his wounds. Today, however, she was sick of it all. She still loved him, but she just couldn't deal with it anymore.
Relationships: Jacob Frye/Reader
Kudos: 16





	Understanding

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone! This is my first ever time posting my writing to any platform, although this was written a while ago (I think late 2018, or early 2019?). My work is not beta-read, so please be nice about any mistake I made! Comments and kudos are appreciated, however, if you have nothing nice to say about my work, please don't say anything.
> 
> Please do not repost my work on any other platform. If you happen to see my work anywhere else, it is not me so let me know! I'm not sure if I'm actually supposed to say this, but I don't own these characters.

I was sitting at the kitchen table, anxiously biting my already short fingernails until there was nothing left... Again. I was beginning to feel tired of the worry-filled afternoons and the late night fights that followed when he finally returned. I was tired of being left alone and in the dark about what he did to provide for us. I was tired of pretending to be the happy girlfriend who was constantly supportive no matter how little she knew about the world around her. 

I checked the microwave clock for the fifth time in what felt like the past minute, but, in reality, was the fifth time in an hour. Time feels so much slower when you're worried out of your mind. I wanted nothing more than to curl up under the covers of our bed in my pyjamas, content with everything in my life. But I couldn't.

He leaves everyday at noon and returns at varying hours late into the night, always covered in cuts and bruises. Wordlessly, I always cleaned and stitched up any gashes that littered his frame, joining him in bed after for a good night's rest. Not tonight. I couldn't. 

I don't know why he comes back in the same, if not worse, shape than the previous night, or why I never asked questions before, but I've reached my breaking point after spending hours crying every time he leaves our apartment, scared for his life. I don't know what he does to get beaten up like he does, or what I've done to deserve this much stress in my life. Someone, whomever it is, up above must hate me. Or him. Or both of us, explaining why we ended up together and in this situation.

The front door opened and closed quietly as if he didn't know I was awake and waiting for him to return. He continued quietly, stopping once he reached the kitchen table to put his leather jacket down on a chair and await inspection from me. 

Taking a deep breath, I examined him. His bare torso, like always, was littered in bruises ranging from a pale lemon yellow to a dark raisin purple, and from an ugly olive green to an oddly beautiful sky blue. It was as if a painter created a painting almost entirely out of paint splashes. I say almost entirely because small, red, irritated cuts exist among the bruising. Tonight nothing required stitches, however, and I almost let a relieved smile make its way onto my face. But I don't. I'm not relieved in the slightest. I'm angry, and confused, and conflicted.

I cleaned the cuts on his torso with peroxide before bandaging them up and moving onto his face. He had a single cut, closer to a gash, on his left cheek that's nearly a completely straight, vertical line. It cuts through the little bit of stubble on his face and I know hair won't be able to grow over top of the scar it'll leave behind, much like his right eyebrow. It's permanently notched near the end of the eyebrow from the three scars that have accumulated over time. Much like I had done to his torso, I cleaned the gash with peroxide before stitching and bandaging it.

After he's fixed up, I make eye contact with him for the first time tonight. I found myself staring into his hazel eyes, waiting for him to speak first. He speaks up in a gruff and tired voice once he gets the hint that I'm not speaking.

"Thank you." He whispered before coughing to clear his throat to speak again, letting his soft British accent come out. "For everything."

I nodded, looking away from him. I could feel the tears welling up in my eyes from bottling everything I've been feeling up. His calloused hands gently enveloped my soft ones as her kneeled down in front of me.

"I know seeing me like this hurts you... But I can't stop..." He tried to explain, wiping the tears cascading down my cheeks off with his thumbs. "Please, say something..."

"It's not the fact you're hurt that tears me up inside... It's the fact that I don't know why you're hurt..." I whispered, closing my eyes and facing down. "I don't know where you go during the day... Hell, I don't even know your job..."

"Love... It's so complicated and I don't tell you so your mind can be at peace when I'm gone." He desperately tried to explain.

I opened my eyes and looked at him. I took all of him in. His tousled black hair that was messily brushed back, the little bit of dark stubble on his jaw, his scars, his hazel eyes, and the bruises that littered his torso. I was reminded all at once of why I loved him and why I've come to resent him. I took a deep breath and closed my eyes again before responding. "All these... These secrets have caused fights and heartache. I've come to resent you and your actions since... Since this has all started. We were happy, then you had to go and get hurt. Every. Single. Day. It kills me... It is killing me... I was okay when it was once a week, but now... Now it's a daily event and I'm scared that one of these days you won't come back."

I opened my eyes again to see a few tears slipping out of his. He took a shaky breath before trying to salvage what was left of us. "I would do anything for you to keep you out of this, but if it's the only way to keep us together... To stop the grief, and the pain, and the fights, and the heartaches... All of it... I will explain everything to you..."

I nodded my head and he explained it all to me, still down on his knees, crying ever so slightly and clutching my soft hands with his calloused ones as if they were his lifeline. I didn't understand all of it, maybe not even half of it, but I understood why he didn't want me to know. It was full of blood, and pain, and despair. There was no happy ending in sight for him, or me, or any of us. 

He was out there every day trying to keep London balanced by fighting the oppression lurking in every shadow and alleyway. He wasn't just mine, he was hers. She needed him more than I did most days. To most of the people in London, he was just another cog in the machine. To the oppressors, he was one of the few brave enough to fight against them. To London, he was the underdog. To the old me, he was a risk taker who went out looking for trouble. To the new me, he was still a risk taker, but trouble found him. To him, he was an assassin working for the greater good, no matter the cost, as long as both London's people and I were safe.

He looked up at me expectantly with puppy dog eyes, the same ones that had gotten him out of trouble where I was concerned more times than he could count. Looking at him now, after hearing everything, I didn't know who he was, or how he spent his days outside of our apartment as he spared me the gory details, but I knew that I couldn't lose him. So, I closed my eyes one last time and took another, final deep breath.

"I believe you, and I still love you..." I paused before continuing. "But I think we should start over... The two of us..."

He nodded hesitantly, a confused look on his face. "Still dating, or...?"

I nodded hesitantly this time. "I'm okay with that."

He stood up, gently pulling me up with him. He released his hold on my hands, leaving them cold and empty, and took a step back. He took a deep breath before extending his hand towards me with a crooked grin on his face. "Hi, I'm Jacob and I believe you're my girlfriend. Oh, and the pleasure's all mine."

A small, genuine smile made its way onto my face. The first one since we started fighting all those months ago. I placed my small hand in his much larger one before speaking. "Hi Jacob. If I'm your girlfriend, I suppose this means you're my boyfriend."

He released my hands and quickly embraced me. I embraced him back, taking in his scent of alcohol and dirt. It was comforting, in a way, because I knew we were back together, even if we were still broken. I leaned back slightly, making him look at me. Smiling slightly, but genuinely, I began to speak. "So, when do I get to meet your sister?"


End file.
